


Rankled

by Saathi1013



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: (kind of: she's only half human but the actress is not white sooooo), Dirty Talk, F/M, Multi, OT3, POV Character of Color, POV Female Character, POV Third Person Limited, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Threesome - F/M/M, some service subby stuff if you're into that kind of thing and squint a little
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:29:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23153284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saathi1013/pseuds/Saathi1013
Summary: An unofficial poll regarding 'Most Attractive Crewmembers' goes around.  Tom ranks eleventh; Harry ranks sixth.  Tom isbotheredby this.  B'Elanna teases him about it... with unexpected results.  Established Tom/B'Elanna, pre-OT3 in the first chapter.
Relationships: Harry Kim/Tom Paris/B'Elanna Torres, Tom Paris/B'Elanna Torres
Comments: 28
Kudos: 54





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the fact that Garrett Wang was, once upon a time, ranked as 'One of the 50 Most Beautiful People in the World' by People Magazine. Proof in image format [here](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/ETCiF4aX0AMcCMq?format=jpg) (with glorious late-Nineties styling), text-only article [here](https://people.com/archive/garrett-wang-vol-47-no-18/) (cw discussion of racism).
> 
> No beta, written in less than a week and a half between work and *gestures at everything* ALL OF THIS MADNESS; my policy on correcting errors is in my profile.

"I just don't understand it," Tom says as he gathers up their dinner plates.

B'elanna's mouth twists into a smile. "You're still stuck on this?"

"It doesn't make any sense!"

"What doesn't make sense? Some moron set up an anonymous poll and let it circulate long enough that we found out about it." She lets him finish the dishes and takes her spot at one end of the couch, the remainder of her coffee and a PADD within easy reach. "Face it, Tom, you're just mad you didn't crack the top ten."

Tom frowns. "No, you know what? I'm come to terms with that. Eleven is a very respectable rank, given the top four were shoo-ins." He presses a kiss against B'Elanna's hair as he passes by with his own mug. "Though you're always number one in _my_ book."

She rolls her eyes. "Cheap flattery." He settles on the other end of the couch, and she swings her feet into his lap. "So what _is_ bothering you?"

He finishes his drink and sets it aside. "It's Harry."

"Harry? He came in sixth."

Tom points an accusatory finger at her. "That's just it! He came in _sixth!_ "

"What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing's wrong with that!"

She prods him in the ribs with her toes, and he takes the hint and starts rubbing her aching feet. Even after all this time, she misses her Maquis boots. She'd known a leatherworker on a little spaceport off Raxon Theta that made the _best_ insoles... She sighs, mingled nostalgia and pleasure as Tom presses firm circles into her aching arches. "Okay. Explain it to me like I'm five." She ticks possibilities off on her fingers. "You don't think it's _bad_ that he came in sixth..."

Tom looks away and switches to her other foot. "Well... no."

"Good. Because for years you've been a walking billboard for his eligible-bachelorhood. I'd hate to think you didn't believe your own hype."

He tweaks her big toe with a light pinch. "That's the secret to a good con: always believe in what you're selling. 'Till it's sold, then you move on."

She can't imagine him 'moving on' from his friendship with Harry. "You're not jealous that people think he's more attractive than you?"

"So long as _you_ don't think he's more attractive than me..."

B'Elanna snorts. "Hardly." She bites her lip and gives him a challenging smirk. "Though I can see the appeal... he's so fresh-faced and earnest, you just wanna muss him up a little."

Tom's hands pause in their ministrations. "Be serious, B'Elanna."

She can't resist teasing him a little. "Who says I'm not serious? I bet I could get him all flushed and worked up and begging for it without too much effort..." Speaking of _flushed_ , Tom's looking a little pink around the edges, eyes wide and dark. She pushes her feet into the spaces below his arms, on either side of his hips, and scoots forward, almost straddling him, dropping her voice. "I don't know if he'd mark up as pretty as you, but I'd like to think he'd be too embarrassed to see the doc after. He'd spend his whole duty shift feeling my scratches on his back."

Tom breaks then, surging forward, pinning her back against the cushions, looking like she's pulled on a thread that's unraveled him. " _B'Elanna..._ "

"Still not jealous?" She asks, wrapping her leg around his, pulling him close. He's half hard against her inner thigh and getting harder. No, this isn't _jealousy_ ; this is something else. 

"No," he says wonderingly, as if he's coming to the same conclusion. Then he kisses her, long and searching and deep, and she drags him down with grasping hands, eager and greedy. 

It never fails to surprise her, how she can't get enough of this man. At first, she couldn't stand him, but now she needs him like air, like water. She needs his hands, now stripping her down with the familiarity of practice, with the urgency of a desperation that matches her own; she needs his skin, which she's revealing with as much haste as she's able to without letting him leave the circle of her arms; she needs his mouth, now trailing kisses down her neck and chest.

Heat builds in her spine; she gasps as his teeth graze her nipple, and her fingers clutch at the nape of his neck as she arches into his mouth, seeking more. He chuckles and pulls away, teasing, and she growls. "At least _Harry_ has hair long enough to pull on," she grumbles.

"Is that what you want? Harry's mouth here," he says, dragging his teeth over her skin. "Harry's hands-" His fingers slip between her legs and he puts pressure there, right at the molten core of her "-- _here_?"

"Maybe I'm greedy," she laughs, breathless. "Maybe I want you both." She realizes as she says it that it's true. The easy camaraderie the two men share, their playful banter and the natural way they move around each other, might translate very well to the bedroom. And she's fond of Harry; she wouldn't mind sharing pleasure with him, imagining him sated and glowing afterward makes a very pretty mental picture. Very... _attractive_ , as the people who'd voted in the poll would agree.

Tom has taken advantage of her distraction to remove their trousers and underwear. She kicks hers free of her ankles and leans up on her elbows, admiring the pale lean lines of him. He's watching her, too, avid hunger in his eyes as they rake over her body.

Part of her wants to preen at the admiration she sees in his gaze; part of her wants to hide from it. Instead of doing either, she pulls him back down against her, enjoying the feel of skin against skin, the roughness of his chest hair against her breasts. They kiss again, slow and languid, and she moans into his mouth when his hand skims up the inside of her thighs and cups her mound, fingertips slipping through her folds.

"What would you even _do_ with the both of us?" Tom murmurs. It's not naivete in his voice, but raw urgency. 

"I don't know, there are a lot of things I could do with an extra set of hands at my disposal. An extra mouth-" She bites him, swift and sharp, just below the angle of his jaw. "An extra--" She reaches between his legs, then, finding his erection, hot and hard. He braces himself over her with his free arm, elbow wedged between her shoulder and the back of the couch.

"Tell me," he says, pushing one finger into her, then a second, sweet and easy. She's so wet she barely feels the stretch. She can smell herself on him, smell his sweat and his arousal rising on his skin.

She strokes him, slow and firm, and his eyes squeeze shut. "I could do this to him. Keep him on the edge 'till he's incoherent. I bet he'd look good like that, disheveled and desperate."

"...yeah." Tom thrusts into her, thumb rolling against the ridge of her clit. When he sets up a rhythm, she matches it, her hand tight around his cock. "Don't stop."

"Or..." She bites him again, this time on the shoulder of the arm he's using to support himself. He's starting to sway, to rock into her grip, using the motion to fuck her harder with his hand.

"-or?"

She laughs again. " _Or_... this could be his hand, on you." He lets out a shaky exhale. "Would you like that, Tom? His hand - or maybe his mouth, right here." She tightens her grip and his cock leaks over her fingers, slicking her palm. She can imagine it clearly; Harry has a nice mouth. It would look even better, swollen and pink with kisses.

" _God_ ," Tom gasps, and claims her lips with his again, messy and moaning. She gets tired of teasing, and flails her free arm out, shoving the coffee table off to one side. It tips over, PADDs and empty cups spilling, leaving enough space on the carpet, and she tumbles them both, landing on top, straddling Tom and sinking down onto him, enjoying the sight of his wide, shocked gaze - good to know she can still surprise him - and the bruise she's left on his shoulder. 

"What do you really want, Tom? To watch me fuck him, or to fuck him yourself?" She rocks her hips, seating him fully, and drags her nails down his chest, leaving flushed-red furrows in their wake. His palms come up to cover her breasts as she starts a punishing rhythm, feeling the lovely friction send sparks along her spine, down the tense and flexing line of her thighs.

"Yeah." Tom plants his feet and pushes back, meeting her movements with upward thrusts. "Yes, both. _Anything_." She arches back, feeling him rub against the sensitive place deep inside her.

"You know what I'd like?" she asks, voice going ragged. She can feel the sensations building, pleasure knotting dense and hot in her pelvis. "I'd like to watch _him_ fuck _you_."

"Oh. _God."_ Tom's hands drop to her hips, pulling her down against him with bruising haste. "B'Elanna!" She clenches around him, chasing his peak with her own, feeling him pulse inside her as the knot tightens. A hand is all it takes; two fingers rubbing at her clit, rough and perfect: Tom taking her apart even as he chases the last shudders of his own orgasm. She crests the wave, crying out, then collapses against him, aftershocks sending shivers through her nerve endings.

After a few long moments, Tom shifts, slipping out of her, and she tucks herself under his arm. They catch their breath, side by side on the carpet, staring up at the ceiling.

" _Well_." B'Elanna is the first to break the silence, feeling an incredulous smile tweaking the corners of her mouth.

"That was certainly _something_ ," Tom agrees.

"...we should probably talk to Harry."

Tom lifts himself up on one elbow, staring down at her in surprise. "What? Really?"

B'Elanna shrugs, sitting up, feeling rug burn pull at the skin on her knees. _We didn't even make it to the bed._ It's been a while since they've been that desperate to get each other off. "It doesn't seem fair, to talk about him like _that_... Without, y'know. Giving him the option."

"...I suppose you're right." Tom smooths a hand down her spine, fingers skipping over the subtle ridges. "You'd be all right with that, though? Being... intimate with someone else? Letting _me_..."

B'Elanna looks at the overturned coffee table. "Yeah, I guess. I mean. If it's _Harry_ , sure." She trusts Harry. And half their downtime is spent with him anyway, barring occasional 'guys' nights out' with just Tom and Harry, and 'date nights' with just Tom and B'Elanna. Something occurs to her, then: it's been a while since Harry canceled on or turned down one of their group outings due to other plans. "And it's not like he's dating anyone right now, anyway." 

"...huh. You're right." Tom sits up, frowning. "He hasn't been on a date in months. I wonder why, if he's so _attractive_ to the crew."

She gives him a fierce, wide smile. "Their loss."

Tom laughs and presses a kiss to her shoulder. "Our gain." His eyebrows lift. "Think he'll go for it?"

"Only one way to find out." She leans in and kisses him, slow and syrupy-sweet without their previous urgency, reassurance and a seal of agreement at once.

\- -


	2. Chapter 2

B'Elanna has never been a morning person. She'd rather pull an all-nighter to finish a project than get up early to work on it the next morning, to which her social life - or lack thereof - during the Academy could attest. So she can perhaps be forgiven when she steps out of the sonic shower to meet Tom's gaze in the mirror and draw a complete blank when he asks, "Should we talk to him today?"

"...what?" She grabs a towel and tucks it around herself. "Talk to _who_?"

"Harry." Tom says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. His eyes are brimming with mischief, and she scrambles to remember what he's talking about. "Don't tell me you're having second thoughts."

Her brain supplies the information all in a rush. "...no! No, I'm just. Thinking more about coffee and what Neelix is serving for breakfast than seducing our best friend, sorry." The last lingering vestiges of sleep adds a bite to her words.

Tom puts down the razor and turns to face her, pulling her into his arms with gentle hands. "Because if you _were_ having second thoughts, that would be okay. I wouldn't hold it against you."

B'Elanna musters a smile. "No, no. You know how I am in the morning."

"I certainly do." He chuckles fondly. "I suppose that's something I'll have to warn Harry about."

She pinches him on the exposed skin of his arm. "And _I'll_ warn him that you forget about garlic breath when you're ordering food on dates."

"I suppose that's fair." He turns back to the mirror and picks up his razor again. "So. Today?"

"Today," she agrees, feeling her stomach flip over at the thought. _I hope you have a plan, Tom_ , she thinks.

_* * *_

It seems Tom's plan is to go to breakfast and _behave perfectly normally_. They sit at a table in the mess hall, trays filled with Neelix's latest attempt at a quiche and a few local fruits. They sit beside each other at a table for four, Tom on B'Elanna's left so she has enough elbow room to hold a PADD in her right hand, the screen filled with schematics she barely registers. Then Harry appears, waves a bright greeting when he spots them, gets his own food, and joins them.

"Morning, Harry," Tom says. "Anything interesting on the schedule for today?" His voice is so light and casual it makes B'Elanna's teeth itch. She stabs a piece of food with her spork and eats mechanically, barely tasting whatever egg Neelix has used today.

Harry leans in, all excitement. "We'll be passing by a stellar nursery soon, and Seven's asked for my help retasking some of the astrometrics systems to get as much information as we can on our fly-by. It'll be a nice change of pace - this area of space has been pretty quiet." He's very appealing like this, an eager light in his eyes. How had she never noticed before?

Tom takes a sip of coffee, cool as a cucumber. "So you'll be working late?"

"No, we have a few days to--" Whatever he was about to say, it's cut off by the arrival of one of the Astrometrics crewmen, a Bajoran - shit, what was her name? Ceres, Celes? - she's not one of Torres' people, so there's no reason for her to be here.

"Morning, Harry," the woman says, "Looking forward to the stellar nursery?" There's something odd about her voice, and B'Elanna gives her another glance.

Harry smiles broadly. "Hey, Tal, yeah, I was just telling Tom and B'Elanna..." B'Elanna misses the rest of what he says, because she notices the pink staining Tal's ears, the too-tight way she's holding the sides of her mess tray. B'Elanna scans the room, and sees two other crewmen glancing their way and suppressing delighted, encouraging smiles. Oh. _Oh_. No, this won't do at _all_. 

B'Elanna bares her teeth at Tal in what could be interpreted as a smile by the unwary. "I'm sure you can talk all about _fascinating star data_ later, when you're _on duty._ " She nods to the other table. "Don't you have friends waiting for you?"

"...oh. Oh, yeah, sure," Tal says, visibly wilting.

B'Elanna smiles wider. "Don't let us keep you." Tom kicks B'Elanna's ankle under the table, but when she spares him a glance, she sees mirth dancing in his eyes.

"Okay, um. I'll see you later, Harry." Tal leaves, and sits gracelessly at the table with her friends, who give her sympathetic looks.

Harry frowns after her, then stares at B'Elanna. "...what was _that_ all about?"

"Nothing," she mumbles, taking a long swallow of her coffee.

"Don't mind B'Elanna," Tom says, "She woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."

"Thanks, _dear_ ," she says with acerbity, kicking him back and glancing down at her PADD. "No, I have to do a refit of the secondary plasma inducers, and I'm not sure if we'll have enough material to do it all at once, or if we have to do it in stages..." There. That sounded good. Sounded _normal_.

Harry leans forward, concern in his dark eyes. "Anything we should look for in particular during our supply scans?"

B'Elanna shrugs. "A little of this, a little of that... Nothing that's not already on the list."

"You know Engineering's always our top priority." Harry gives her a reassuring smile.

Tom leans back in his seat, finished with breakfast. "Well, if neither of you are working late tonight, why don't we blow off some steam on the holodeck? I have a program I've been _dying_ to try out: the cascading cataracts of Tehk'noma. We could climb the cliffs, swim in the thermal pools, have dinner on one of the suspension balconies..."

B'Elanna can't hide her surprise. He's been talking about that program for weeks as one of their date night options. It's as good a suggestion as any.

For his part, Harry is looking thoughtful, chewing his food and looking between them both as if he's missing something. He swallows, clears his throat, and responds finally, "Yeah, that sounds great. If you're sure you want me along..."

B'Elanna smiles at him, real this time. "We're sure."

Tom's ankle bumps against hers, like he's reaching over to squeeze her hand. " _Absolutely_."

Harry's answering grin is bright and open.

* * *

B'Elanna feels her energy flagging midway through her shift, right on schedule for her coffee break. As if by magic, Harry appears with two steaming mugs and a smile. "Thought you could use a pick-me-up."

She takes the drink he offers with a grateful sigh. "Your timing is impeccable, Starfleet. But I thought you were busy in Astrometrics?"

He leans forward, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial murmur. "I had to get out of there. Ever since that stupid poll came out, I've had to deal with a lot of... attention."

B'Elanna smirks and leads them both over to a secluded corner of Engineering, so they can have a little more privacy. "Aw, Harry, is being in the top ten not all bloodwine and roses?"

Harry huffs a wry laugh. "Hardly. I've been propositioned three times in the last twenty-four hours by people I barely know, and just this morning, Seven grilled me on 'the inefficient subjectivity of attraction.'"

B'Elanna glowers. " _She_ didn't ask you out?" That would be _disastrous_. B'Elanna has no idea how much of Harry's former crush still lingers.

"No, but she didn't understand why she came in first, when so many of the crew are still, ah, keeping a wary distance."

B'Elanna can't help smiling wryly at that. "Not everyone gets to see her warm and cuddly side."

"You should talk." Harry elbows her in the side. "Number _Four_."

She can feel a bit of a blush heating her cheeks. "What can I say? The crew seems to have a thing for authoritative women... I wonder how close the votes were between Seven and the captain."

"No way to know. The poll was anonymous and encoded." There's something in his voice as he says it, though, something in how his eyes shift away...

B'Elanna gasps. "Did you try to _hack_ the poll?"

Harry breaks. "I just don't understand how I made the top ten!"

Laughter bubbles up and out of her, and a few crewmen shoot them alarmed looks. "You don't? Harry, do you _own_ a mirror? You're young, athletic-"

"You could say that about most of the crew. Starfleet _does_ have fitness requirements."

She bumps his shoulder with his, resisting the urge to keep detailing _exactly_ what makes him so attractive. "I think your appeal goes beyond Starfleet regulations."

"If you say so."

"I _do_ say so." She bites her lip and takes a risk. "Believe me, you'd definitely be in _my_ top ten."

He laughs, like he doesn't believe it. "No need to ask who'd be your number one."

B'Elanna smiles. "You got me there. So..." Curiosity burns, and she has to ask, "are you going to take any of those offers?"

Harry shrugs. "I don't know. I'd rather think that someone liked me on their own, instead of angling for the most eligible option from some arbitrary poll."

Guilt surges in her gut. If it hadn't been for the poll, she and Tom might never have realized... _It's different_ , she tells herself. _We're not looking for another notch on our bedpost._ "Who knows, Harry. Maybe someone just needed a little nudge to see what was right in front of their face."

Harry meets her eyes, then, dark and searching for reassurance. "I'll take your word for that, B'Elanna."

* * *

"What do you think?" Tom's voice calls out from the bedroom. "The red vest or the blue?"

"Blue," she says from the bathroom as she's pulling on her swimsuit. Blue brings out his eyes. She wiggles a bit to settle the tight fabric and gives herself a critical once-over in the mirror.

"What about you?" he asks, peering around the corner. "Oh, the one-piece? I would have picked that strappy bikini you wore on our holodeck trip to Tahiti."

She gives him an uneasy smile. "I thought that might be a little... much." She pulls on a robe, wondering if it's still too revealing for the walk to the holodeck. She'll throw on some loose cotton pants.

Noticing her fidgeting, Tom comes up behind her and curls his hands around her upper arms. "Hey, I thought you said you weren't having any second thoughts."

"No, it's just..." B'Elanna turns to face him. "Harry's not the type of guy to take this kind of thing lightly."

He nods, looking serious. "I know. I saw how long he held on to the thought of Libby, after we got stranded here."  
  
Feeling restless, B'Elanna shoulders past him, into the bedroom, pacing at the foot of the bed. "I don't want to hurt his feelings, Tom, or-- or ruin our friendships. Or our relationship - yours and mine."

"This isn't going to ruin our relationship," Tom says, following her out. "We're on the same page, here." He stops, folding his arms. "...aren't we?"

She sits abruptly on the end of their bed, looking up at him, and asks the question that's been bothering her ever since Harry stopped by Engineering: "We are, but -what if he wants more than a roll in the hay?"

"...oh." Tom sits next to her and sighs. "Yeah, that's something we need to consider." He reaches over and takes her hand between his, lacing their fingers together.

* * *

Harry arrives at the holodeck right on time, dressed for climbing. He looks taken aback at B'Elanna's outfit. "Aren't you coming with us?"

She shakes her head. "Oh no, you two can have fun on the cliffs. I'm just going to soak myself into a prune in the thermal pools, if that's all right."

"Fine by me--" Kim starts as the doors open, then he's staring in open-mouthed wonder at the scene before them.

"Welcome to the cascading cataracts of Tehk'noma," Tom says, with pride. And no wonder: he's worked on this program for a while now. It doesn't have pride of place like Sandrine's or Captain Proton, but it's one of a handful of pet projects he's tinkered on, with -- what B'Elanna was once delighted to discover -- his keen attention to detail.

And such detail! A massive horseshoe waterfall dominates the scene, divided into five columns of falling water by four immense statues of long-forgotten gods, looming over the steaming, frothing pools at its base. A switchback staircase arcs gracefully through garden terraces along the cliffs on the right-hand side, next to a silver-and-glass elevator so close to the falls it must feel like flying up alongside them, and the craggier left-hand cliffs have an exposed swath of rock marked for climbers. Mist throws arcs of color everywhere, so that it's almost hard to distinguish the clear walls of the suspension balconies far above, poised over the precipice like soap bubbles. The air is scented with the heady perfume of flowers from the gardens and is wonderfully warm and humid, with just enough of a breeze to keep it from feeling like a swamp.

"It's beautiful, Tom." B'Elanna reaches over to squeeze his hand.

"Nice work," Harry agrees.

"Just a little something I cooked up in my downtime." Tom's voice demurs, but his ears are pink. He likes praise, she's noticed, but he doesn't like to show it. One day, when they're all back in the Alpha Quadrant, she's going to sock Admiral Paris in the jaw. She'll lose her pips, but it'll be worth it.

They wander the lower level for a little while, taking in the scenery. Harry and B'Elanna do most of the talking, pointing out the different features that catch their eye, like the broad, silvery-grey paving stones radiating heat through the soles of their shoes, or the little nooks here and there beneath hanging curtains of vines, flowers blooming so heavily on the stalks that B'Elanna wouldn't know they were there at all if they weren't tied back in drapes. 

She ducks into one of these alcoves and finds some shelving with linens, a padded bench, and a row of hooks. She lets down the curtain and changes out of her cotton pants, which have become damp and clinging with the mist. After a moment's thought, she leaves her robe behind, too, but takes one of the towels and wraps it around her hips in lieu of carrying it. Tom and Harry are talking, but she can't hear what they're saying past the greenery -- Tom has thoughtfully dialed down the sound of the falls, instead of them being so loud that people have to shout when they're trying to talk right next to each other, but it's still an omnipresent white noise.

When she emerges, the two men are gone. She huffs a breath of annoyance and peers around, her hands on her hips. All she can see are the falls and the cliffs and the smoothly-sculpted tiers of thermal pools. They must have started climbing. She picks one of the larger, deeper basins and tests the temperature. It's not steaming as much as the others, but it's not so cool as to be a shock. She shucks her towel and lowers herself in using the wide steps under the water's surface, sighing with pleasure, letting her eyes drift shut as the water buoys her up.

She swims to the far edge of the pool and turns to find the two men standing there, their climbing gear stripped away to reveal their swim trunks and plenty of bare skin. Her face and chest bloom with warmth that has nothing to do with the thermal currents. _Mine_ , she thinks, then chastises herself: _Only_ one _of them is mine._ _The other..._

 _Should be._ Could _be, soon._

"We thought we'd join you." Tom has a broad grin on his face like he knows exactly what she's thinking. His trunks are longer, board-short style, with one of those garish blue 'Hawaiian' patterns on them. They don't do much for his legs, but his hairy chest is bare and his waist is trim, and his pale skin is beginning to flush, with the heat or with the weight of her gaze.

"If you don't mind, that is." Next to him, Harry is darker, broader, stockier. There's no hair on his torso save that beneath his armpits; she wonders if he uses a depilator. His shorts only come to mid-thigh, and she gets distracted by the muscle there.

"...no! I don't mind," she blurts, belatedly realizing they're waiting for her response. Tom's smile, if anything, is even wider. "Come on in."

Harry takes the steps into the pool, but Tom dives right in, swimming over to her with a few swift strokes. "All right there?" His voice is low enough for Harry to miss, but the mischief in his eyes is blatant.

B'Elanna retaliates by splashing him. The ensuing water fight is brief but fierce, Harry drawn into it by friendly fire. It ends when Harry launches a surprise attack, dunking Tom with what looks like a leg sweep under the surface and an arm pulling Tom under by his shoulders.

Tom emerges, sputtering. "No fair, ganging up on me!"

B'Elanna laughs and gives Harry a high five, then sinks under the water herself to get the hair out of her eyes. She resolutely does _not_ open her eyes underwater. "So, what happened to climbing?" she asks when she surfaces and slicks her hair back.

"You just made the water seem more appealing." Tom's voice has that warmth, that undercurrent of innuendo, that he _should_ reserve for private moments but rarely does. Harry simply rolls his eyes, used to it.

B'Elanna frowns. She doesn't want that, Harry disengaging. She wants Tom to tease him, too, wants to sidle up between them and feel their bodies under her palms, sleek beneath the water. She wants...

She _needs_ to swim, to work off the restless energy that itches beneath her skin. She peels away from them and backstrokes to the other edge, facing them with a challenging eyebrow raised. "Who'll race me?" The men exchange glances. "Winner gets to pick dinner, losers use their rations." _That_ gets them moving. They hustle to her side of the pool with alacrity, and she adds, with relish, "Ten laps."

Tom groans. It's not a large pool, and his stamina is fine ( _more_ than...), but he has trouble on turns. He's going to lose.

"Ready? Three, two, one -- _go!_ " Harry says, and they're off.

Starfleet's fitness requirements stand them all in good stead until the third lap, when B'Elanna pulls ahead. Frequent climbing up and down the Jeffries tube ladders has given her an edge over her bridge-crew opponents. Her blood sings, her Klingon side exulting in victory, but the burst of energy it gives her only lasts through a few more laps. Then she spies someone catching up on her left -- it takes a moment for her to recognize it as Harry, slowly but surely closing the lead. B'Elanna grits her teeth, but by the last turn she knows she's beat. Harry cuts through the water cleanly and tirelessly, and claps his hand on the ledge a moment before she does, then Tom catches up a few heartbeats later.

"Didn't know you had it in you, Starfleet," B'Elanna comments when she's caught her breath.

Harry beams at her, triumphantly. "Maybe I have a few surprises left in me."

"Good ones, I hope," Tom replies.

Harry laughs. "You'll find out at dinner, won't you?"

"Oh, no, what do you have planned?" Tom groans. 

And with that and the ensuing banter, the tension in B'Elanna's chest unfurls a bit as they pull themselves out of the swimming pool. She catches Tom watching the muscles in Harry's back as he hauls himself out of the water, and shoots him a small, private smile that he pretends he doesn't see. 

They make their way towards one of the hotter, bubbling basins and ease in with a chorus of sighs. "So, Harry--" B'Elanna starts.

"Oh no," Tom interrupts. "I know that tone of voice, and _no_. No shop talk in the hot tub. No shop talk _at all_ tonight."

Harry gives him a dubious look and then shrugs. "I suppose we could try."

"All right, then. Harry," B'Elanna thinks fast, "when did you start playing clarinet?"

Harry blinks. "Oh, I was maybe seven, eight years old, I think." He chuckles. "And not a moment too soon -- I played the recorder before that, and it drove my parents _right_ up the walls." He goes on, tells her about his first public recital (disastrous) and then his second (much better, since he learned not to eat before doing something that would make him nervous), then asks if B'Elanna knows any musical instruments.

"My mother tried to get me into a few... the Dov'agh, the leSpal, even the DIron, but none of them stuck. I think she wanted to find some way get me to connect to Klingon culture..." She tries not to complain about her mother too much, but it's hard, like she's swimming at the top of a deep well, and if she starts diving, she'll forget which way is up. "What about you, Tom?"

"The usual, you know. Piano when I was younger, but it didn't last."

"Too busy reading?" Harry asks.

"That or building starship models." Tom tilts his head at B'Elanna. "How old were you when you built your first engine, again?"

"Mm..." B'Elanna stretches out her arms. "Around the time Harry was learning the clarinet." Both men laugh. "It just ran on internal combustion, though, nothing fancy."

Tom shakes his head. " _Nothing fancy_ , she says. You hear that, Harry? I could barely figure out how photovoltaic batteries worked while she was building a motor from spare parts..."

"It was from a kit!" B'Elanna protests, then admits, "...that I modified. A little." (A lot.)

"That's our B'Elanna," Harry says, warmth in his voice and in his dark eyes.

 _Our_ B'Elanna. She likes the sound of that. Without thinking about it, she drifts closer to Harry.

He drifts away, but he's looking at Tom, so she's not sure if it's intentional.

Tom's looking at her, watching her with a sharp gaze. "So," he says, clapping his hands together, "who wants dinner? We only have the holodeck for a few hours, and I'm eager to find out what Harry has planned for us."

She'd rather find out what _Tom_ has planned for them, but all she says is, "Sure. Let's eat."

* * *

They take the elevator up in their swimsuits and change for dinner in the bathrooms up top. Tom brought his blue vest and a pair of navy slacks, but B'Elanna has the program whip up something appropriate instead. The v-necked dress is fitted at the top and waist, but then flares out to skim over her hips and fall to her knees, the fabric light and breezy and patterned with small, interlocking geometric shapes in shades of green. She forgoes underthings, feeling brazen already with only holograms covering her nudity.

Already finished when she comes out -- _he_ didn't have to towel-dry his hair! -- Tom gives her an appreciative once-over. "Very nice. You still up for this?"

"Absolutely." She looks around. "Where's Harry?"

"In the dining room." Tom comes close, presses a kiss to her temple, then steers her in the right direction with a hand in the small of her back. He adds in a quiet murmur, "Heads up," as they cross the threshold.

She'd ask why, but her breath is taken away in the next moment. "Oh, wow," she says after a long moment staring. The dining hall is made entirely of glass, round and oblong like a squashed balloon, suspended over the falls by crystalline cables that catch the light in long sweeping arcs. Even the floor is perfectly clear, and she can see the water rushing by, barely a meter below her sandal-clad feet. The falls drop away near the end of the room, and she'll bet that if she stands right next to the window, it will feel as if she's hovering over the precipice, heartbeats away from plummeting.

The sky is a vibrant violet-pink-blue gradient, shot through here and there by arcs of color thrown up by the mist from the falls. And before it all stands Harry, his back to them, admiring the view. He's wearing pale linen trousers and a dark shirt, but she can see light through parts of the latter, as if it's transparent in places. He turns and gives them a brilliant smile. His shirt is unbuttoned halfway down his chest.

"Oh, _wow_ ," she says again.

"I know, right?" Tom says, _sotto voce_.

"This program is incredible, Tom," Harry enthuses. "Thank you for inviting me."

There goes Tom, getting all flushed again. "Aw, Harry, my holodeck library is your holodeck library, you know that."

"Even _I_ don't have full access to _that_ ," B'Elanna comments wryly.

Harry laughs, then gestures to the table, which is set with covered dishes. "Shall we?"

* * *

"This program needs music," Harry says, setting aside his napkin with a satisfied sigh.

"What would you suggest?" Tom asks, still picking at his pie.

Harry thinks for a moment. "Computer, play some... classic Andolian, informal." The music starts; it sounds like slow Martian blues, but with a rolling drumbeat like thunder that B'Elanna can feel faintly in the soles of her feet, behind her sternum.

"This makes me want to dance," she says, setting aside her wine. 

Tom gives her a delighted grin. "I think I'll finish my dessert, but you two go on."

B'Elanna stands, holding out her hand to Harry. "How about it, Starfleet? Think you can keep up?"

Harry shoots Tom a curious glance, but gets up and takes her hand with a warm smile. "I'm willing to try."

She steps up to him and puts her hand on his shoulder; it's firm under her hand with the strength she'd seen in action earlier, and she wonders if he could pick her up, hold her against a wall. Tom can manage it occasionally, but Harry's built more broadly. It might not even be a strain for him. How had she never noticed how tall he was before?

To her surprise, Harry lets her lead; most human men have trouble with that. They dance together, smooth and easy, a friendly distance between them. He smiles down at her. "You know, I might borrow this program, bring crewman Celes here."

B'Elanna grits her teeth and bites back a snarl, but can't help the way her hand tightens on Harry's, possessive. "Don't you dare."

Harry grins down at her, easy and unrepentant. "I'm just winding you up, B'Elanna. I wanted to make sure my suspicions were right."

"Suspicions?" Tom asks. She looks over at him; he's relaxed in his chair, glass of synthale in hand, looking pleased with the world and himself. "It sounds like you think we have ulterior motives, here."

Harry pivots them on the dance floor so he can turn that smile on Tom. "Well, I _was_ starting to suspect you'd caught on to me. But now I'm not so sure."

" _We'd_ caught on to _you_?" B'Elanna blurts.

Harry sighs, shaking his head, smile dimming but not disappearing. "What do you think I've been doing all this time? I spend all my off-hours with you, I bring you gifts..."

B'Elanna remembers the new toolkit he'd replicated for her from a trader's specs, last week. She hadn't thought anything of it at the time, but now... "I thought you were being nice!" She shoves at his shoulder but doesn't let him out of her embrace. "You're too damn _nice_ , Starfleet. How was I supposed to know you meant anything by it?"

Harry looks down at her, suddenly serious. "I could _stop_ being nice," he says, low and quiet. His hand slips down from where it's resting in the small of her back, smoothing over the swell of her backside before pulling her close with a firm grip.

Her breath catches, then she grins at him, delighted. "Well, well. Ensign Kim. You're _full_ of surprises." She looks over at Tom to see if he's noticed, only to find that Tom has left his chair and is crossing the dance floor to join them. They both shift to make space for him, easy as breathing.

"Only good ones, I hope." Tom's hand catches Harry's elbow. 

"You tell me."

B'Elanna doesn't know who moves first, but the two men meet in the middle, kissing slow and careful. Learning each other. Heat kindles in her belly, and she shifts closer to Harry, pushing her nose against his neck, enjoying the scent of his rising arousal mingling with Tom's, familiar and unfamiliar at once. It's irresistible. Without thinking about it, she bites Harry on the cheek.

Harry breaks away from Tom, a hand coming up to his face. "Ow!"

Tom just chuckles. "Feeling left out?"

B'Elanna quirks an eyebrow at him. "Staking my claim."

"I take back every joke I made about you getting in over your head, Tom," Harry says, shaking his head ruefully.

"Hey!" She's not really angry, but it's the _principle_ of the thing.

"I'll make it up to you," Harry promises, then bends his head to catch her mouth with his own. It's sweet, too sweet, until she rakes her teeth across his lower lip and he groans, parting his lips against hers, then it turns wonderfully dirty, their tongues meeting. When it ends, they both have to catch their breath. A glance at Tom confirms they're not the only ones.

"So." B'Elanna inhales deeply. "Do you want to take this slow, or do you want to find the oversized bed that Tom undoubtedly programmed for us?"

"...it has Tholian silk sheets," Tom adds in a soft, cajoling voice.

Harry laughs. "Of course it does. I would expect nothing less. But-" He sobers, clearing his throat. "Before this goes any further, you should know. I don't want to do this if it's a one-night thing for you, some kind of experiment, or--" Tom squeezes his shoulder, reassuring, and Harry swallows hard and barrels on. "Because I'm in love with you. Both of you, I mean. So. Now you know."

B'Elanna exchanges glances with Tom. "We love you, too, Harry. I-- I won't say that I'm _in_ love with you, not yet, but-- this isn't just some whim for us, either."

"If you need this to be serious, we can be serious," Tom confirms. "We wouldn't risk our friendships - or B'Elanna's and my relationship - on something frivolous."

" _Oh_..." There's a wealth of relief in Harry's sigh, but there's a hint of disbelief in his gaze, as if he's been disappointed so many times that he's not sure he can entirely trust his good fortune _now_. Well, they'll just have to convince him.

Tom beats her to it, capturing Harry's mouth with intent. B'Elanna starts unfastening buttons on Harry's shirt, slipping her fingers beneath the cloth to touch all that lovely smooth skin she'd seen earlier. She's going to enjoy marking it up. For now, though, she's content to reveal it, pushing the shirt off his shoulders to land on the floor in a heap. Tom is mouthing at Harry's neck, one hand on his jaw and the other slipping over his belly to land at his waist. 

Harry looks lost already, eyes closed, mouth parted and open, and B'Elanna circles behind him to press kisses across his shoulders, drag her teeth across the back of his neck, scent the sweat rising along his spine. She steps close and runs her hands down over his hips, his flanks, dragging her nails over the swell of his thighs, the firm lines of his flesh tangible through the thin fabric of his trousers.

There's a soft thump, Harry gasps, and B'Elanna peers around him to see that Tom's dropped to his knees, hands busy at Harry's tented fly. "Mm, yes," she murmurs to Harry, combing through the hair at the nape of his neck, "he's good with his mouth, you'll see."

"Oh, _God_ ," is all Harry musters before Tom gets his pants down and one hand at the base of his dick, guiding it to his parted lips.

B'Elanna enjoys the view for a minute - Harry's erection is thick, not as long as Tom's but it has a promising upward curve to it that she wants to feel inside her - and takes one of Harry's hands in hers, lifting it and placing it on the inner curve of her breast, right where the neckline stops. His eyes fly open, and he gasps, "B'Elanna! Sorry, I--" He slips his hand behind her dress and cups her, thumb teasing at the nipple.

"It's okay to get distracted," she says, laughing. "Tom can be _very_ distracting."

"You're telling me -- _oh!_ " Harry's knees nearly buckle from whatever Tom just did.

B'Elanna looks down again, brushes her fingers over pale, freckled shoulders. "Should we move this to the other room?"

Tom pulls off with an obscene noise. "Computer, change scene to bedroom." The world shimmers around them, resolves into a spacious chamber with an equally-stunning view of the falls, the promised bed only feet away. "I'm staying right here, though."

She smiles fondly. Tom's as proud of his oral skills as he is of his piloting skills, which is to say: he's equal parts vanity and dedication to backing up his claims. Not that she's complaining...

Neither is Harry. But to his credit, he's remembered how to multitask, pulling B'Elanna close and kissing her deeply, his hands busy doing delicious things to her breasts, massaging and tweaking until her nipples are hard against his palms. Her dress is half off her shoulders, and she shrugs, freeing her arms and letting the fabric pool at her waist. She digs her nails into Harry's back and he moans sweetly, pulling away to gasp for air again.

She looks down. Tom's eyes are closed and his cheeks are hollowed and he looks so utterly dedicated to his task that she can't resist reaching down and touching his hair, petting him. "You look so good like that." She gives Harry a wicked smile. "Doesn't he, Harry?" Her fingers tighten in Tom's short hair and he leans into the touch, letting her guide him.

"So-- _so_ good," Harry stutters.

She drops her voice to a murmur. "I bet he'd let you use him." Tom moans, voice muffled. "Oh, he _likes_ that. How about it Tom? You just stay put--" she grips his hair tighter and he stops moving, hand dropping away from the base of Harry's cock, "and Harry can fuck your mouth." Harry's breath hitches, almost a sob, and he's moving before she even has to nudge him with a hand on his ass (but she does anyway because it's a very nice handful, flexing under her palm).

It doesn't take long from there, but B'Elanna savors every detail: the way Harry's hips stutter when he gets close, the whine in the back of his throat, the way Tom is so obviously loving this, one of his free hands pressing hard at his own fly and the other clutching at his thigh like he's trying to anchor himself inside his own skin.

Two or three more thrusts and Harry's there, calling Tom's name in a broken shout as he comes. B'Elanna has to take some of his weight for a second, and she releases Tom's hair in case he wants to move away, but he stays where he is, swallowing rapidly as Harry's cock pulses in his mouth.

"Oh my God," Harry says between ragged gasps. He strokes Tom's face with wondering fingertips, then pulls away to fall back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as if he's been stunned. " _Oh_ my _God._ "

"I bet you used to think B'Elanna only used her dirty mouth to cuss at warp coils," Tom says, standing and shaking out his knees. His voice is a little hoarse, and B'Elanna has to kiss him, taste Harry on his tongue.

"I tried not to think about it," Harry groans, starfished over the sheets.

"Oh yeah? What _did_ you think about?" B'Elanna lets her dress drop all the way to the floor, and steps out of it, kicking off her sandals before crawling onto the bed. Harry shakes his head. She nips at Harry's ankle, his calf, skims her open mouth over his knee and up the still-trembling line of his thigh. She sinks her teeth next to the slight hollow at his hip, marking him, wanting him to feel her on him for _days_. 

He's _hers_ , now, hers and Tom's. It sends a thrill through her, plasma swirling along her nerves. She can hear Tom behind her, shucking his own clothing, probably enjoying the view. She keeps nipping, up and up Harry's torso, over the slightly-soft line of his belly, over the firm arcs of his pectorals, stopping to swirl her tongue over a nipple. It's addictive, the taste of his skin and the small sounds he makes each time she gets her teeth into his flesh.

"B'Elanna, _B'Elanna_ ," he says, tilting her face to him and pulling her up against him gently. "I know I'm younger than Tom--

"--hey!--"

"--but give me a minute, here." Harry kisses her, slow and thorough.

"That's all right," she says soothingly, when they break apart. "Take your time." She stretches out full-length on top of him, loving the smoothness of his skin against her own, then gets her knees under her, straddling Harry's thighs, and looks back over her shoulder at Tom, who is indeed watching them with a heavy, pleased gaze. "You just going to stand there, or are you going to help me out while Harry recovers?"

Tom laughs, shaking his head. "You were preoccupied. I didn't want to interrupt." But he's already moving, walking on his knees over the mattress to fit himself against her back, his erection nudging her inner thigh, hands greedily sweeping over her body. He finds all the places he knows drive her crazy, kisses her neck along the line that makes her sigh, drags fingertips through the curls between her legs to feel how wet she is, how ready. She squirms, grinding back against him. "There's an idea..." he muses. "Why don't you go back to kissing Harry, sweetheart."

She gets the picture and twists in Tom's arms to give him an approving kiss, messy and off-center, then bends forward, dropping to her elbows over Harry. "Hi again," she says, smiling.

"Hi yourself." Harry brings one hand up to tuck her hair behind her ear, trace the line of her jaw.

"Hope you don't mind if we entertain ourselves while--" Her words die in her throat as Tom's cock nudges against her, lining up and pushing in, _in_ , smooth and easy and so, so good.

Whatever expression is on her face, Harry's watching it with a soft, enraptured expression. "I don't mind at all," he replies.

"Good," she says, meaning Harry, meaning Tom, meaning _all of it_ , Kahless, there's so _much_ of it, so much skin against hers, so many hands on her body, so much pressure inside and out. Harry kisses her and she catches his lower lip between her teeth, drawing blood; she apologizes and he pulls her back in again, letting her lap at the hurt, iron blooming across her tongue while Tom steps up the pace behind her, fucking her deep and steady. Someone's fingers find her clit -- she doesn't know whose hands are where, she can't keep track anymore, it's all good, _so good_... 

She closes her eyes but she can still smell them both, the crook of Harry's neck right there, Tom sweating behind her, his breath ghosting along her spine. She fists her hands in the sheets beside Harry's shoulders and hangs on, lost in the feeling of being trapped between them both, buries her face against Harry's skin and shouts exultantly as they both pull her over the precipice and then down, down, into warm syrupy pools of satisfaction. Tom follows her, a few heartbeats later, groaning, his hands clutching her hips.

Harry catches her when her arms give out. Tom disengages, slipping out of her, dropping off to one side, and she rolls to tuck herself between them, her head on Harry's shoulder. Harry's hands stroke her arms, her belly, skip across to touch Tom beyond her, like he's reassuring himself. She lifts a hand to comb her fingertips through Harry's hair. "We're both still here, Harry," she says, smiling. "We're both real."

Harry goes pink, at that. "Am I that obvious?"

"Yeah..." Tom levers himself up on one elbow to prop his chin on B'Elanna's shoulder. "But if you'd been _more_ obvious sooner, we could have been doing this _ages_ ago."

B'Elanna elbows him, and he _oof_ s, laughing. But Harry chews his lip, looking troubled. "...what? What is it?" Tom asks.

"I..." Harry loses courage, finds it again. "I set up the poll."

B'Elanna sits up. "You _what?_ "

Tom just laughs harder, falling back to the mattress, one hand over his face.

"I... I overheard some crewmen talking, one day, about who they'd put as their top ten. It was just, you know, boredom chatter. But I wondered, well... if people didn't notice me because... I wasn't... _noticeable_ , or..." He runs out of steam and shifts uncomfortably. B'Elanna suspects that when he says 'people,' he means _them_. "So I whipped up a quick algorithm and left it on a PADD, where I knew it would get found, and... I meant to go back and get it by the end of the day, but it was all over the ship before I knew it!"

There's real anguish in his voice, but she can't help it: laughter bubbles up out of her anyway. "Betcha didn't think you'd make the top ten," she manages between giggles.

"I really, _really_ didn't!" There's a moment where Harry is looking at her beseechingly, and then he's chuckling at himself, overwhelmed by the absurdity.

" _Well._ " B'Elanna reaches forwards and tangles her hand with his. "I hope we've reassured you that you are _very_ noticeable."

"Definitely top ten," Tom says behind her, his hand clapping Harry's shoulder. "And if you ever need more _reassurance_..."

" _Don't_ make a poll!" B'Elanna finishes for him. "Tuvok _will_ kill you."

Tom adds, "...and then B'Elanna will have to kill Tuvok, and _then_ it'll become a whole _thing_..."

They all dissolve into laughter again.

The air chimes with the alarm Tom set to warn them that their time's almost up. In a flash, they're all scrambling for their clothes - B'Elanna doesn't even bother with the swimsuit, just stuffs it in one of the pockets of her robe and belts the latter tightly, holding the neckline closed with one hand. In just a few minutes, they're all presentable again - _mostly_ presentable, that is; Tom tries to smooth down parts of Harry's hair where it's sticking up sideways and fails miserably - and calling for the arch.

Before the doors open, B'Elanna catches Tom's hand and Harry's elbow, pivoting the latter to face her. "Come back to our quarters," she says. "Spend the night."

Tom squeezes her hand approvingly, and he nods. "Sure, the bed's big enough for three."

"It is," B'Elanna confirms. "Tom's a sybarite, you know that. And we want you there."

"Really?" Harry asks, looking dubious.

" _Really_ ," Tom says. He claps Harry on the shoulder like he always does, but his touch lingers this time.

Harry's answering smile is as bright as sunshine. "...all right, sure."

They turn back toward the arch and the doors open, revealing a very prompt Tuvok, waiting for his holodeck time to begin. Tuvok lifts one eyebrow at all of them. "Good evening," he intones.

"A _very_ fine evening, Lieutenant Commander," Tom says, casual and breezy.

Harry's voice is a little more strangled, but he manages, "Evening, sir."

B'Elanna just waves with a tight smile behind them, her chest expanding with the breath she holds 'till Tuvok passes them all by.

(It should be counted in their favor that they wait for the doors to close again behind him _before_ they start laughing again.)

\- End -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear fellow MtG players: I REGRET NOTHING.


End file.
